


Sunburn

by sheafrotherdon



Series: Nantucket AU [23]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-03
Updated: 2007-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The penalties of summer sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunburn

The fog burns off about half an hour after John heads out on his run, and by the time he comes back, smelling of sweat and salt and unforgiving sunlight, his shoulders are pink, freckles breaking out across his back.

"You took off your t-shirt," Rodney says, frowning.

"Hot," John replies, mopping his brow, swiping under his arms with the balled up fabric he's carrying in his hand before he throws it at the foot of the stairs.

"You're burned," Rodney points out, his mouth a thin line.

John roots in the fridge for a bottle of water, cracks the cap and tips back his head to drink. The line of his throat is mesmerizing – Rodney finds himself staring despite his irritation at John's inability to use sunscreen; strangely dazed until John takes a breath and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's fine," he says, shrugging as if charm can ward off melanoma. "I'm gonna shower." And he takes the stairs two at a time, which is just showing off, Rodney thinks.

They drift through Sunday on a gentle tide of traded newspaper sections, hot coffee, thick sandwiches, and inadvertent naps. It's almost time for dinner when Rodney spots John scratching at his shoulder, and he leans across the sofa to smack at his hand.

"It itches," John whines softly, and _god_ , Rodney thinks, of course he'd pout.

"That's what sunburn tends to do," Rodney sniffs, but he gets up and pads into the kitchen, bare feet whispering against the wooden floor. "Come on."

John raises an eyebrow, looks in his direction. "What?"

"Come _on_."

John's pout deepens, but he sets down 'week in review' and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt as he follows Rodney out to the porch.

"Sit," Rodney says, turning around the kitchen chair he's dragged outside. "Take off your shirt."

Compliant, John straddles the chair, pulls off his t-shirt and folds his arms the seatback, squinting into the sun. "What are you – "

"No talking," Rodney chides, and there's a bottle of aloe in his hand. He squeezes some into his palm, sets the tube on the windowsill before he rubs his hands together and lays them gently against John's upper back.

John groans and Rodney's hands still. "Don't stop," John begs pathetically.

"I haven't heard you make a noise like that in _weeks_."

"I'll make it up to you later," John whispers, head dropping forward. "Just . . ."

Rodney smiles just a little. "Feel good?" His hands smooth the aloe over John's reddening skin, and he can't help but smirk when John shivers.

"S'cold," John manages, words blissfully slurred.

"It's been in the fridge all afternoon," Rodney concedes. "I put it there when you went to shower."

John groans again as Rodney smoothes the aloe down his upper arms. "Genius," he sighs as Rodney's fingers slip over his shoulders, brush against his collarbone, linger at his throat.

"Well that's stating the obvious," Rodney says quietly, but he smiles as he leans to press a kiss to the back of John's neck, coaxing aloe up to soothe the spot his lips have made tingle, pressing affection over foolish skin.


End file.
